


I almost do

by drarrylicious



Category: StarKid Productions RPF
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, New Years, crisspez
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 22:16:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5432771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drarrylicious/pseuds/drarrylicious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I felt a burnt on my cheeks. Years later, we still knew how to make the other smile or blush, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I almost do

**Author's Note:**

> Angsty kinda fluffy old stuff I'm uploading here for reasons. Can't say anything else besides thanks for reading <3

I rubbed my hands against each other to keep them at a minimum level of warmness. It was the coldest New Year of my life.  We just finished dinner, the delicious plate of food helped them to put up our temperature; but right then, outside, under the sight of the stars and Chicago lights, the cold wind was whipping us off and we were starting to freeze again. The countdown was approaching; and all of us were cheering and jumping around, making noise, excited. I wasn’t probably as excited as the rest of the gang. That year had been incredible for all of us; but what could assure to me that the new one would be as good as the previous one? I couldn’t help but to be afraid; everything that went up would eventually go down. Jaime Lynn announced that the final minute began and they started to make the countdown.

I was walking from one side of the sidewalk to another; the cold was sneaking into through my little boots. My feet were so cold. I buttoned all of the buttons of my jacket and fixed my scarf before the final 30 seconds went through. I looked at the gang, losing the count of the seconds. Most of them had a glass of champagne on their hands; I had rejected it, but then I was regretting doing it so. I could have appreciated a little of alcohol in my veins to counteract the cold.

When the cheers and screams and fireworks exploited all of sudden; I knew it was New Year. The first one that came up to congratulate me was Julia. She hugged me and accidentally dropped some of her champagne on me. We both laughed; I recognized her tipsiness. Then Jaime, Joe Walker, Joey, and Denise came up to me. I could only say Happy New Year because we all wanted to see the shiny fireworks; in the top of their climax, mixing themselves just right over our heads. But I didn’t pay attention to them right away. The last person, who for a second I thought forget about me, walked to me.  Chilled, with a little smile that I could spot instantly because of the blue beanie that captured my attention.

“Happy New Year, Lauren.” He whispered.

“Happy New Year, Darren.” I answered, with another tiny smile.

There was tension between us. There had always been since we split up. Awkward, but in a certain way, enjoyable. We knew that tension, that awkwardness, was marking the line we couldn’t cross.  He had taken a day off that time to fly from Los Angeles to be with us; but that was it. I was a part of the group, not the only and main reason he was there. I couldn’t start to imagine things again.

Because of the same reason; he didn’t hug me. He offered to me his glass of champagne instead. I accepted it. I took some sips from the glass, looking up to the sky; staring at the delightful explosion of fireworks in the sky. Darren did the same, but he didn’t walk away from me.

When the fireworks ended, the group walked inside of the house again, fearing they’d freeze out there. I started to step through the path to the house too, following them; but I turned back at half of the way. Darren was still stood up on the sidewalk, staring at the sky and watching the traces of the fireworks left.

I slowly walked to him. My boots were making noise as I put my feet on the pavement. He looked kind of sad too. Maybe sad was not the right word to describe it; but he had a different look on his face.

I shook my head; trying to convince myself that was probably just tiredness from work and/or the flight. Trying to convince myself that, after all that time, I  didn’t still know him so well.  

“You okay?” I asked softly, standing next to him.

He nodded, his gaze went down but he didn’t look at me neither; as if I just interrupted his meditation session. He breathed and I watched the vapor coming out of his mouth through the cold air.

If we were still together, I wouldn’t need to ask or to even know the reason of his sadness. I’d just wrap my arms around his back, kiss his cheek and snuggle against his chest; and that’d be enough to let him know I was on his side. That he wasn’t alone.

But we weren’t.

I bit my lip in a gesture of anxiousness. The situation leaded me to despair. I wanted to know but I couldn’t ask.

Then he did look at me. Directly at my eyes. And that caught me by surprise. I didn’t realize I was looking at him with such desperate eyes. I felt like if his eyes had responded me; they saw the feeling portrayed on my eyes and they related to them.

“I miss us too.” He said lowly.

I just gasped, not knowing what to reply. Of course I missed us. I missed how close we used to be; how we used to recognize our gestures, gazes and attitudes just by sharing a one-second look; how we used to finish each other’s sentences and how we knew the exact thing to do to capture the other’s attention, how to annoy them, make them laugh, make them blush or make them shake of pleasure.

It was a constant temptation. We were best friends for years; and when we decided one night after the happiness of Michigan winning the most important game of the year, to break that thin line of intimacy between us with a soft (but cheeky) kiss; we couldn’t just build a cast and put that wall up again.   

“We’re better off like this.” I finally said.

We really were? My mind kept shouting me it was. We shared months of hidden kisses on the lips, sleepless nights of talking under the sheets, and laughs dragged through an entire day; and it was great and amazing and everything you could expect it to be, but what about _that_ night? When we screamed our weaknesses at the top of our lungs, and we used our own private and only-us secrets against each other, and we cried wasted tears because of a fight? That night was just as real as the others.

We were over.

But it was, indeed, a temptation. How could I understand that those lips that I’ve kissed countless times before weren’t mine now? That I couldn’t call him at the middle of the night because I needed to hear his voice? That whenever I wanted him, like then, I had to step back and left the path free for somebody else? I loved him once and he loved me so. How were we supposed to forget our voices calling each other’s names between whispers in the middle of the night, or our bodies responding to each other’s touch, or the warmth feeling of being so close that you forget when do you finish and when does the other’s begin?

“Do you really think so?” he asked slowly. His rough gaze on me made me nervous.

I wanted to say no. But I nodded.

“But how am I supposed to…?” he began, but I cut him.

“To stop?” I interrupted.

He shook his head yes. “How am I supposed to hold myself when you are looking so beautiful like tonight?” Darren muttered; and his hand went to my face. I felt his fingertips caressing my neck, on the end of my scarf, and running through my cheek, burying his fingers in my hair.

I closed my eyes. Always a temptation. Always in the edge, in the brink of the line, in the almost.

I put my hands on his chest, instantly feeling his warmness. He pulled me closer, wrapping his arms around my waist.

Everything on him was calling me. His eyes, his touch, his breath, his voice, the beat of his heart. And I never knew if I was going to have the strength to step back, to say no, to almost do.

He planted a soft kiss on my cheek,; and feeling my skin, whispered:

“You’re freezing.”

I hid my face on his neck; my nose was making me tickles, I wanted to sneeze.

And I wondered if he felt the same way I did. If there were times when he was going to sleep and thought about me; if he got confused and saw my face lost between a crowd, if he had to skip a radio station because a song remembered him about me; if it was necessary to hold himself like he said to not kiss me under the pouring rain. If there were ever times when he almost did.

“I know we can stop. What it scares me-“ I said, looking up to his eyes. “it’s not knowing if we can forget.”

His thumb rubbed softly my cheek; and a sigh sneaked out of his mouth. His voice sounded, strong, but only I heard it. “I could never forget our first kiss, or the first time we shared an ice cream, or sang together, or the first time I made you smile, or laugh, or moan, or even cry. The best memories of my life include you. I always feel them coming back to me, and they are so real and so powerful, and I wonder why can’t we-“

“Darren, don’t do this…” I started, I was going to cry if he tried to convince me once more time. I knew I had to reject it, because I’d doubt it, I’d reach the almost and that scared me.  I’d fear more of the best moments than the worst ones, because the happiness would imply sadness, and a hello would risk a goodbye; and I didn’t know if I could _almost._

He took my face with his both hands, forcing me to look up, back at him. I squeezed his sweater, trying to hold my crying. He kissed softly my forehead this time. His lips on my skin were so wrong they felt right. He never liked to see me cry; and as a tacit promise, I didn’t. I moved my hand through his chest, to his neck; and my fingers reached the line of his jaw, softly stroking it.

And I felt, for the first time after a while; a requited feeling. Like if he was on the edge too. Like if he was almost to give himself away, almost close to love me, almost stealing a kiss from  me and almost confessing; almost inhaling all of my breath, almost looking at me so so pretty close that almost feeling a million of butterflies inside him, almost telling me, and almost having me lying. Almost asking me my feelings for him and having me almost saying yes.

How did we mess up a love so beautiful?

“I still-“ He stuttered, stumbling upon his own words. He didn’t finish sentence, but he almost did.

He moved close to me, and I closed my eyes as I felt his lips on mine. A soft, slow, but long kiss. I wondered how much I’ve been almost kissing him, wanting him to be the one to do it; asking me to myself how to be something he’d miss.

I ran my hands to the back of his neck, squeezing his curls. Trying to make a list of all the things I had been missing about him, all in one second. He was pulling me closer and closer, taking all of my coldness, throwing off all of the intimacy; breaking of sudden the wall of _almost_ we tried to build between us  in that night of screams and revealed secrets as if it was made of lego pieces.

It was flawless, unforgettable, fearless kiss.  

We cut it when our teeth collided; and I smiled shyly. He smiled too, pressing his forehead against mine. I felt a burnt in my cheeks.

We still knew how to make the other smile or blush, after all.

“We’re going to get caught out here. Remember that you are a superstar now.” I whispered, making fun of him, playing with his short curls.

“It’s my day off.” He justified.

A lost firework exploited right up us; and we raised our gazes to see how it melted in the black night sky; like a wishing star. He looked at me again and I did the same.

“Happy New Year, Lauren.” He said lowly.

“Happy New Year, Darren.” I replied, cuddling against his chest before the cold went back to us and we had to get back in the house.

There’d be times when they would, and it was inevitable. But he had to know. Every look, every touch, every time I stepped back I was saying to myself to don’t.

But every time I don’t, I almost do.

 

 


End file.
